Nyxia

by Scott Reintgen

  I run forward. The pain registers on Bilal’s face, and high-pitched shrieks tear from his lungs. I can hear the attendants just behind me. Before I can get to him, Longwei hops down. Instead of helping, though, he brings the nyxia-blunted sword down on Bilal’s neck. Overhead, Bilal’s avatar loses its head. The real Bilal is screaming with pain, and Longwei begins to walk away. Rage turns everything red. I veer away from Bilal, knowing the attendants are there, knowing they can do more for him than I can. Longwei doesn’t realize I’m coming. A second later, I lower both shoulders and blindside him. The collision shakes me from jaw to hip. We go rolling and I end up on top of him.

  “You bastard.”

  He tries to squirm, but I’m bigger than he is. I pin his arms back with my knees and rip the nyxian mask from his face. It clatters away and I land a downward jab. His head snaps against the floor. He’s spouting Mandarin as his nose bloodies. I ignore him, sweeping his hand aside and punching down again. Twice more and his eyes daze.

  I’m shouting at him still, screaming every curse I know, when Vandemeer pulls me off. I manage to land a kick against Longwei’s ribs before Vandemeer can push me away and walk me out of the pit. I don’t look at the others, but I can feel their stares as I’m escorted out of the room.

  DAY 188, 1:13 P.M.

  Aboard Genesis 11

  Vandemeer doesn’t come down too hard on me. Instead, he makes me do yoga. I inhale, exhale, stretch, roll shoulders, and find the anger fading to the distant corners of my brain.

  “I have to go see him,” I say when we’re finished.

  “Bilal?” Vandemeer asks.

  “When I was down there, I thought everyone abandoned me. I won’t let him feel that way.”

  “Your wound was directly caused by nyxia. It’s standard protocol to not allow visitors in those situations. Bilal’s injury happened naturally. You’ll be allowed to visit him, all right? I’ll take you down after the Rabbit Room,” Vandemeer offers. “How does that sound?”

  “Sounds like shit.” Points before people, that’s what Babel’s teaching us. That’s what I used to think before Kaya. “Sounds like I care more about my score than I do about my friend.”

  “Think about it, Emmett,” Vandemeer replies impatiently. “He’s going into surgery right now. He won’t be able to see you and you won’t be able to see him. Not until tonight. No sense in you wasting an opportunity to keep fighting. You’ve worked too hard.”

  I grind my teeth together. He’s right. Still makes me feel like a lurch, though.

  “Are they still at lunch?”

  “They’re due in the Rabbit Room,” he says. “I’ll take you down.”

  All I can see in my head is Bilal’s bone jutting into the open air. As we walk, Vandemeer tries to remind me of the climates we studied earlier. I’m too distracted for that, though.

  I ask about Bilal instead. “How long will it take him to recover?”

  Vandemeer grimaces. “Earthside it’d take him a year.”

  “But here?” I ask. “It wasn’t a nyxian injury like mine.”

  “No, it wasn’t. Here it will be much faster. Nyxian pins and plates. Advanced blood treatment and muscle rebuilding. He’ll be back in a month.”

  “That’s an eternity.”

  Vandemeer stops me in front of the Rabbit Room. “I know you like him. He’s a good kid with a good heart. But there’s only so many more spots left for the trip to Eden. We’ve been working hard to make sure one of those spots goes to you. No letting up, all right?”

  I give him a guilty nod and join my team. With Bilal in the med unit, the teams are even for once. Not that it matters. The past few months, our team has ruled the Rabbit Room like tyrants. Another way to honor Kaya’s memory. We use her strategies and we never lose.

  Breaking the illusion that we were in separate rooms running separate races changed everything. Now the tennis net has to be guarded. Now the groups have to figure out who to send over to the other side. Defoe’s stopped having digital wolves chase us. We’re the wolves now.

  A glance shows Longwei’s still feeling dizzy. I’m surprised he’s here at all. I volunteer to cross over to their side. It’s always better to be aggressive with a wounded creature. Jaime and Isadora will guard the front end of our border and Azima is chosen to run on our safe wing. Defoe stands on his platform like an overlord. With a flick, the room kicks to life.

  One of the keys now is deception. If the other team sees a shield, they assume you’re on border patrol. If they see long poles, they’ll know you’re trying to cross over into their territory. I manipulate my nyxian rings into a shield and fall in line with Jaime and Isadora. Three shields makes us look like we’re turtling. All defense with hopes of having Azima outrun their runners.

  Our eyes have to flicker from the screen to the other team, to the screen and back again. It sharpens the senses when you have to fear everything around you. We watch Katsu and Roathy drift over to the border. They run in stride with us, just a few feet away, with only the mesh net separating us from them. Both have their nyxia formed into standard padded shields.

  Katsu shouts, “Look at these lurches! They don’t stand a chance.”

  “We’d be more scared,” I shout back, “if you could actually jump over the net, Katsu.”

  He laughs loudly. Our attention is forced forward, though, by low-hanging branches that materialize from the front screens. We dip and duck. I use the distraction to transform my shield into a staff. I plant a knee until the treadmill’s whisked me to the very back of the room. In a smooth sideways motion I leap into enemy territory.

  It takes Roathy a few precious seconds to notice. He calls out the breach, but I’m already across and dangerous and hungry. Playing the wolf is my favorite game. Move too early and the whole team converges to eliminate the threat. Move too late and you put your team in impossible situations. Fifteen meters ahead and ten meters to the right, Longwei’s running guard with Jazzy. Katsu and Roathy are dead ahead. If either drops back, Jaime and Isadora will double up on the straggler.

  Our positioning is perfect. My adrenaline spikes just thinking about Longwei. I want another shot at him. My staff isn’t nyxia-blunted. Swung hard, it could break a bone or two. Up ahead, the trail descends toward the ravines.

  My eyes flick back to Jaime for our signal. He starts to raise a fist when Isadora takes her padded shield and slams it down into the back of his legs. He lets out a cry of pain and whips past her. He hits the back wall before he even knows what happened. Isadora transforms her shield back into a ring and stops running.

  With a quiet nod at Roathy, she lets the treadmill carry her out of the race. I mutter a curse as Roathy and Katsu climb the barrier. They stumble onto our side and Azima sees them. She’s helpless, though. Isadora’s betrayal is blinding. Blinding because she’s adding an element to the game that shouldn’t exist. Our team is our team. We leave rivalries at the door and always compete.

  But her spot’s guaranteed for Eden. We should have known she’d take advantage of that for Roathy’s sake eventually. I take a glance around and know the numbers will only get worse. It forces me to pick up my pace. Jazzy and Longwei run down a narrow center shelf. Both wield nyxian balancing poles like me. Jazzy’s the one who invented them, said her middle school track team used something similar. The flexible shafts help us vault impossible distances. Or swat at a competitor’s legs. The addition has made Babel’s course far more navigable.

  Out of the corner of one eye, I see that Roathy and Katsu have Azima cornered. I focus on my footing and drive my pole down into the rubber. It jerks, tightens, and springs me two meters into the air. On my right, a cry sounds. Azima has her arms wrapped around Katsu. The two of them roll into the nearest canyon, and only Roathy’s left on that half.

  When the lights flash, I know I’m alone. Three against one.

  My feet land with a shocking thud. Then I’m sprinting. Three bounding strides draw me nearly even with Longwei and Jazzy. Before
Roathy can cross back to our side, I edge my way toward the center and plant the pole again. My forearms absorb the shock and I’m airborne. Time stands utterly still. I lose my grip on the nyxia, but instead of falling, it transforms. I’m too lost in the adrenaline of my leap to give any direction. Darkness blooms like a gasp of smoke from a grenade. A war cry tears from my lungs and my body goes parallel with the floor.

  Longwei’s twisting his shield around, but the blackness descends on him before I do. My nyxia drapes over his shoulders and cinches like a net. He crumples as I land. My shoulder collides with Jazzy, but somehow we both keep our feet. She shoots me a terrified glance and then drives her pole into the ground. I know if she leaps away, I’ll never catch her. Desperately, I lash out and give her lower half a hard shove. She screams as the angle of her flight lands her in the nearest ravine.

  I leap left, quick-step through a patchwork of crevices, and straighten. Adrenaline turns into laughter. The lights flash as Jazzy and Longwei are eliminated. I am a titan falling from the sky. Roathy’s pulling himself over the mesh barrier. I laugh again and launch myself. He rolls to the side, but it costs him his footing. He flatfoots his next jump. I keep running and pump both fists when he shorts it.

  The treadmill flashes to a stop. I go down on both knees and raise my arms in victory. Jaime and Azima come flying from the back of the room to dogpile on top of me. Isadora scowls at me from the back, but I don’t care. I feel like I’ve conquered galaxies; I feel like I’m supposed to be going to Eden. It’s the first time since Kaya died that I feel like I deserve to win.

  DAY 189, 2:13 A.M.

  Aboard Genesis 11

  My ascension is short-lived. Bilal’s pale form lays me low. His X-rays show more hardware than bone. Babel’s surgeons have left him with finger-thin scars in five different places. His right leg’s been shaved clean of hair. I never noticed how much of it he had. Like me, he’s becoming a man in the deep black of space. Like me, he’s stuck in a med unit millions of kilometers from home, from the people he needs at a time like this.

  He wakes up once, eyes wide and dazed. But his words are clear enough.

  “Emmett,” he rasps. “Hey, do me a favor.”

  I take his hand and give it a light squeeze. “Anything. What you need?”

  “Longwei. Tell him he is an asshole.”

  Laughter rips from my throat. Bilal manages half a smile before shaking his head.

  “Just kidding. Tell him I know it was an accident. I forgive him.”

  I swallow as Bilal squeezes my hand and leans back, eyes closing.

  “I don’t want him to feel guilty,” he adds, drifting off.

  I can only smile. If I were in his shoes, I’d be pissed, but Bilal is Bilal. I sit with him, stealing little slivers of sleep, until morning comes. I know I need to leave or forfeit breakfast.

  “I’ll come back. Every day. Like Kaya did for me. I promise, I’ll be back.”

  As I pass scoreboards, I try not to look at how tight everything is. I’m just barely above Roathy now. If the competition ended today, I’d be going to Eden. But there’s still time, and I have work to do. Even with the penalties Babel gave me for Kaya’s death, I’m so close I can taste it. It’s like Kaya’s hand is on my back, giving me a shove, telling me to do the impossible.

  And after my performance in the Rabbit Room, I know I’m meant to go to Eden. I can rise above this. I eye the scores again and know that a month out will have Bilal dropping like a stone. His score will plummet, and even if I do beat out Roathy, he might beat out Bilal. A part of me wonders how I would even survive Eden without my two favorite people.

  Longwei hawks a glance at me. I don’t look away. Instead, I survey the damage. He has a black eye and a few other prominent bruises. As far as I’m concerned, it’s not punishment enough. He breaks eye contact and I turn my attention to breakfast. The table’s mostly quiet. Quiet is always a sign of Katsu’s sour mood. If he’s not joking, we usually don’t even talk at breakfast.

  “Bilal?” Azima asks. “Is he okay?”

  “He slept all night,” I say. “Recovering from surgery.”

  “A choice time to get injured,” Katsu says bitterly. “Good for us, I guess.”

  “Don’t be a lurch,” I throw back. “He’s really hurt. It could happen to any of us.”

  Katsu wags his fork at me. “It won’t happen to me. I have a secret strategy.”

  Jazzy leans over. “You do? What is it?”

  Katsu pats his gut. He’s slimmed down some, but he’s still got all of us by forty or fifty pounds. “Keep on as much padding as possible. Less likely to break the bones underneath.”

  We laugh into our cups. The sound dies quickly, though. That happens a lot now. Jokes aren’t as funny as they should be. Joy slips through our fingers because we’re grasping and reaching for everything else. We’re past being broken. Now we’re at the stage where Babel is gathering the shattered pieces and making us into something. I catch glimpses of it in myself, in the others. Defoe plans for us to be more. I think about my friends sitting in algebra or running laps in gym class. How could they ever be as fast, as hard, or as smart as we will be? They don’t want like we want. They won’t die for what we would die for. They haven’t seen what we will see.

  But then I remember Bilal. He’s not a product of Babel. He has a joy they can’t touch.

  “Longwei,” I say, remembering my friend’s request. “Bilal said he forgives you.”

  Everyone stares. Longwei turns slowly. “For what?”

  “He knows it was an accident,” I say, trying to keep the hatred out of my voice. “He didn’t want you to feel guilty for hurting him. Just a message he wanted me to pass along.”

  For just a second, Longwei’s determined front breaks. I see some deeper and darker pain in his eyes, but he looks away, focuses on his breakfast. The others are quiet.

  “It’s unfair they pushed some people through.” Her eyes flick briefly to Isadora. “Bilal is a good person. If someone deserves a free pass to Eden, it’s him.”

  Before I can agree, medics spill into the room. Vandemeer looks like someone hosed him awake with cold water. I panic, scanning the table. Only Roathy and Bilal are absent. The other medics gather their contestants, and I fear the worst has happened. Another death, another Kaya.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  Vandemeer nods toward the exit. “The Tower Space Station. We’ve arrived.”

  DAY 189, 8:28 P.M.

  Aboard Genesis 11

  We gather before a sheer black wall near the back of the ship. It has the characteristic shine of nyxia. For the first time, we see the entirety of our crew. Genesis 11 is a small village of astronauts and medics, techies and marines. They watch as Defoe marches us into the room.

  We’re lined up in order, first to last, between the nyxian wall and the crew. My stomach tightens with anticipation. Word works through the ranks that there will be thirty more days before the contest is over and we’re ready to leave the ship. A new challenge awaits. Whatever the design, I know it will be harder. Babel always demands more, never less.

  My eyes slip over to the scoreboard on our right:

  Eight out of ten will go. I’m already ahead of Roathy, but it’s not the kind of lead that lets you sleep comfortably at night. My eyes drift up to Bilal’s score. He’s performed so well, but this final injury might keep him out for a few weeks. I know I can beat Roathy, but what if we both catch Bilal in the process? I’ve made promises to myself, to Moms and Pops, to Kaya’s memory. I’m going to Eden. But if I can, I’m taking Bilal with me too.

  Outside, metal kisses metal. The ship shudders, and I can feel the vibration in both legs. Defoe is delivering us with surprisingly little pageantry. Even though our most important accomplishments are written in bold on the scoreboard, there are other successes that have been set aside and forgotten. We are space travelers. Astronauts. When I’m older, I’ll tell my kids about this voyage. No one else, not PJ or any
of the Most Excellent Brothers, can say what I will say. They cannot tell the stories I will tell.

  But Eden’s still out of reach. Thirty more days, I think, just thirty more days.

  I glance over at Bilal. His attendant’s wheeled him into the room, and a hard, nyxian cast covers his leg. Even injured, he’s still smiling beneath his mask. Always smiling. The sound of grinding metal ceases. We all stand a little taller, straightening our shoulders. Defoe separates from the crowd to stand before us. His nyxian suit shimmers like the fine edge of a knife.

  “Thank you,” he says with a wide, sweeping gesture. “To the crew for their precision, to the medics for their care, to the competitors for their fortitude. We’ve just completed a voyage that marks a new era in man’s ventures into space. It is an honor to be at the helm of a mission such as this with people such as you. Today, the days that precede it, and the days to follow, will be recorded in history alongside the other markers of human progress. You will be remembered.”

  Our medics step forward to stand behind their pairings. There is an empty space on my right where Kaya should be standing. Vandemeer pats my shoulder kindly as Defoe dismisses the astronauts and techies. They drift back into the underbelly of the ship, and when the last footsteps fade, Defoe continues.

  “We are now entering the next phase of the competition. You will have thirty more days and no more Sabbaths. In that time, you will be able to add to your overall scores through a competition called the Waterway. There you will learn to navigate similar conditions to what you will see on Eden. The only major difference is that you will do this as a team.”